Estel Dream
by Nera Black
Summary: An idea I dreamt about the other day. Aragorn and Sauron speak face to face in a dream. -COMPLETE-


Dawn rose on the misty highlands. Somewhere in the near distance the jubilant cry of a wild stallion split the cool morning, answered moments later by the rest of his free spirited herd

Aragorn Elessar, the last of an ancient bloodline otherwise long gone from Middle Earth stood upon a high ledge that looked over the peaceful scene. He was, by right, the king of Gondor. But not by spirit.

Humming the gentle melody of an ancient elven song, Aragorn jumped from the ledge, landing upon the dew kissed grass.

_Elessar…_

A haunting voice whispered on the wind.

Hiding his surprise, Aragorn slipped behind one of the great clusters of grey rocks, his hand gently pressed upon the hilt of Andruil, the blessed Sword of Kings long past.

_Elessar…_

The voice called again, louder this time. Aragorn barely steadied himself against the eiree chill that crept up his spine. He waited patiently for the sound of footsteps, which would betray the location of his visitor, be they friend or foe. But none came. He waited for a long while, his hand growing tired from grasping his sword.

Curious and unwilling to wait any longer, the darkly browed ranger king stepped away from his hiding place, peering around at the opposite side of the rock cluster. In the cool mist Aragorn distinguished the stark outline of a towering figure, armed heavily in coal black armour.

"What goes on here?" Aragorn asked himself, for the first time feeling a slight twinge of fear in the pit of his soul. This creature was far too large to be a man, even one of the Dunedain. And yet…he was not one of the Uruk-Hai, Aragorn knew because of the silence of his movements.

"Elessar." The voice boomed. Aragorn's heart stopped as he placed where he had heard it before.

A flame sparked within his soul, and Aragorn raced at the looming figure, drawing Andruil as he went. In one easy stroke, Sauron disarmed the furious man.

"Still you anger, Elessar. I have not come to fight you."

To Aragorn's surprise, Sauron laid his own weapon, a huge broadsword, on the grass.

"How…how is this possible?" Aragorn questioned him in disbelief.

Sauron seemed vaguely amused. "I coaxed you to sleep while you rested in the alcove not far from here. Are you so diluted with human fancy you cannot recognize a dream? I am no longer able to survive in the world of men."

Slightly flustered, Aragorn eyes his sword wearily, wishing it was back in his hand, but unwilling to risk reaching for it. Harm could befall a man even as he slept.

"But the Ring…" He began at last, searching for some reason to prove his dream a simple fancy. "You don't have the power to enter dreams…your spirit was destroyed in the fire!"

"Was it?" Sauron asked, chuckling. "There are many things that even the oldest and wisest of your world do not understand."

Aragorn shook his head in growing frustration. "It does not take a wise man to see that this is foolishness. I washed my hands of you six months ago, when Frodo dropped the ring."

Sauron shuddered noticeably, but seemed almost to grow taller with his next comment. "It was not the hobbit who dropped the ring. I seduced him, and would have been victorious had not that wretched creature Gollum gotten in my way."

Sighing, Aragorn sat down. If this was a dream, it was a rather long and boring one.

"Forgive me." Sauron said, the note of sarcasm evident in his booming tone. "I had forgotten the patience of humans. Hear me now, Elessar, and I will tell you my purpose for this odd arrangement." Slowly, he also sat upon the earth, his huge form surprisingly silent despite his armor. "As you know, I have not been able to take human form for many a year." He paused here, and Aragorn nodded. "But unbeknownst to many, I have entered the dreams of countless babes and kings, working my powers into their minds, taking their already corrupted spirits and bending them to my own will. I take the form of the most terrifying nightmare, the most pleasurable fantasy. And of all the minds I have overtaken, none have resisted successfully. Except one. You."

Despite the sense of wrongness he felt at sitting with the Dark Lord, Aragorn could barely suppress a twinge of pride. Only him. Of course, it only made sense…he thought idly, allowing his thoughts to wander. Me being the king of course, and the heir of Isildur…

A jolt shocked him to his senses. The Heir of Isildur was not a respected title. At least in his own mind. With a feeling of uneasiness, Aragorn realized he would not be able to let his guard down in this world; a world where physical ability was unimportant and immeasurable.

"Why, Elessar?" Sauron's voice interrupted Aragorn's disconcerting revalation. "I wish to know your mind. How and why did you resist me? What power did you have that rivaled all others?"

"Faith." Aragorn hissed defiantly. "Courage. Loyalty. Any number of things that you could never understand."

"And what of love?" Sauron questioned mockingly. "Does not the love of an elf offer some magical aid?"

Aragorn stared at the evil lord in disgust. "Love is a thing which you, the lowliest of all creatures could not possibly ever comprehend."

"Could I not? For what is love, if not the affection of family?" Sauron's cool voice froze Aragorn's soul. He watched in horror as the dark lord removed his helm and placed it beside him. Aragorn found himself staring incomprehensibly into the eyes of none other than Isildur himself.

"It's not possible…" Aragorn breathed.

"You have been mislead, Elessar." Isildur's eyes flashed laughingly, and his tone dripped with cruel sarcasm. "There never was a Sauron. Only Isildur. And my father before me, and his before him. Of course, the line was broken a bit when I came along. You see, I had the uncanny idea when I was a lad to overtake Mordor and turn it into another kingdom. Did you not ever wonder why Minas Tirith is on the doorstep of Mordor?"

Aragorn found himself unable to reply. His breath had suddenly gone from him, and he sat as still as a statue, eyes fixed in mortification upon his great ancestor.

"I became quite good at what I did." Isildur continued. "I was able to make up some fiddle faddle about the goodness of Gondor and her rulers. Hah! Just plant a white tree in the center and people'll think you're the purest of them all. It was fun while it lasted, especially pulling the wall over those fools eyes when I gave them their gifts as Sauron, the mysterious king of Mordor." His eyes becamed fiery. "And then there was that idiotic elf, Elrond. The fool. He thought he knew me. Thought he had become close enough to the King of Gondor to control me. When I staged Sauron's death with the help of my Goblin captain, and claimed the ring for my own, he got in my way a bit, and I was forced to be good Isildur a while longer. Unfortunately when I finally got the chance to get rid of my purity façade, a rebellious band of orcs destroyed my body."

"The rest of what you know is true. The ring was found by the filthy creature Gollum, whom I had fun plaguing until his death five hundred years later. Bit of a hobby I suppose…but then…I never expected there would be a creature foolish enough to waltz into my kingdom, where I was planning on how to overtake you my dear boy, and inject my spirit into your body, as all my father's fathers had done."

Frozen with horror, Aragorn felt as if his heart had been torn to pieces. Everything he had ever known was a lie…

"What of the ring?" He whispered feebly, sounding much like a fearful child. "You mention it as if it were mere trifle…" An odd sense of terrified curiosity crept into his voice. "What is it, really?"

Isildur threw his head back in cruel laughter. "That thing? Yes, I suppose it was clever wasn't it…causing everyone to believe my soul was bound to it. It was merely a weapon, boy. Nothing more. A physical manifestation of my ultimate and complete power. I used it to persuade, torture and destroy. The hobbit's quest was unfortunate, as it resulted in destroying my ability to see everything at once. But who his to say I cannot do it again?" His voice grew menacing and his eyes began to glow with a scarlet flame. "My eye is still powerful, Elessar. I see much, despite my loss. I will conquer you, and victory for our line will be restored."

Aragorn Elessar, child of elves and men, the King of Gondor and the protector of good, had never felt more hopeless. In a few simple words his entire world had been proved pointless. Everything meant nothing, for surely this evil creature that sat in front of him, boring into his soul with flame rimmed eyes, would conquer all.

_Aragorn…_

A sweet voice shot through his darkness.

_There is still hope…_

His eyes widening with a felicitous epiphany, Aragorn clung to the melodic voice of Arwen Undomiel, his reason for life.

"Onen i-Estel Edain." He whispered softly, remembering the words of his mother. "Ucheben estel anim."

The malicious cruelty in Isildur's flaming eyes receded somewhat.

Feeling a righteous power within his breast, Aragorn jumped up in burning fury.

"Hope." He voiced simply. "Hope is what I have that you do not. You can destroy my courage, overtake my country, kill my trust, and I will still have hope for a better day."

In one swift and easy movement Aragorn retrieved Andruil, and thrust the pure blade into Isildur's chest, destroying temptation and dissolving the illusion of hopelessness.

"There is always Hope." He whispered triumphantly as the specter of Isildur vanished, along with the highland scene around him.

Moments later, Aragorn, King of Gondor, opened his eyes and, upon leaving the world of dreams, woke to find clearer skies.


End file.
